i LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, i 

— ^ 

^ — — w 

^UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. J 



LOVE SONGS, 



7 



r^^ 



OTHEE POEMS 



BY 



y 



MARY AINGE DE VERE. 



I do but sing because I must, 
And pipe but as the linnets sing. 

Tennyson, 




NEW YORK : 
FIFTH AVENUE PUBLISHING COMPANY. 

1870. 



t^>- 



^tv^ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by 

MARY AINGE DE VEEE, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 

Southern District of New York. 



TO 

ROBERT ROOSEVELT, 

THE KIND AND SYMPATHETIC COUNSELLOR OF IMPATIENT YOUTH, 

ACROSS A GULF OF FOETT YEARS 

THIS SLENDER THREAD IS THROWN, 

NOT WITHOUT HOPE OF 

A MORE SUBSTANTIAL BRIDGE TO FOLLOW; 

A BRIDGE THAT 

MAY SUSTAIN EVEN THE UNITED WEIGHT OF 

CRITIC 

AND 

AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 



LOVE SONGS. 



THE DEPAETUEE, 
LOVE'S LONGING, 
ENDED, , 
EASTWARD, . 
DO YOU REMEMBER ? 
LOVE'S VALUE, . 
AN APRIL DAY, 
TO , 



ONE LITTLE LOCK, . 

CONTRADICTION, . 

SEVERED, 

DECREED, . 

WHEN WE ARE PARTED, 

AT THE FERRY, . 

WHY ? 

AN HOUR, . 

DOUBT, . 

THE ANSWER, 

DENIAL, . 

WAITING, . 

SONNET, . 

GOOD-BY, . 

FORSAKEN, 

ACROSTIC. . 



PAGE 

. 9 

12 
. 14 

15 
. 16 

IT 
. 18 

31 
. 22 

24 
. 25 

27 
. 29 

31 
. 32 

33 
. 36 

3T 
. 41 

42 
. 44 

45 
. 46 

47 



6 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

FOREVEEMOEE, 48 

FRAGMENT, 51 

SUSPENSE, 55 

ONCE, 57 

LOYE, 58 

FIRST POEMS. 

A MOTHER'S OFFERING, 61 

IN SPRING, 63 

FLIGHT, 64 

MY BOAT, 65 

FAITH TREMBLING, 6T 

ROSE AND LILY, ........ 69 

MORNING LAND, 70 

WHAT LACK I YET ? . 72 

AT SCHOOL, 74 

HOPELESS, 78 

HYMN, 79 

DREAMLESS, 80 

EARTH AND HEAYEN, 81 

DEATH'S RIVER, 82 

FOR SANFORD, . . 83 

PATIENCE, 85 

REMEMBRANCE, .86 

AUTUIVIN PRAYER, . . . . . . . 88 

REQUIESCAT IN PACE, .... . . .'89 

DAISIES, . . . . . . . . . 91 

DEGRADED, . 92 

ANGEL-GUIDE, 96 

SO YOUNG, ......... 98 

LIGHT LOVE, . .100 

WRITTEN IN SAND, . 102 

WEARY, 103 



LOVE SOIfGS. 



THE DEPARTURE. 

Q1 HE threw him a rose as he turned away, 
^^ He passed it lightly from hand to lip, 
Then, with a smile more grave than gay, 

Touched his cap with a finger-tip ; 
Went away, with his martial tread. 
To swell the lists of the early dead. 

She watched him passing over the lawn, 
Down through the roses, out of the gate ; 

Have the light and life of the morning gone. 
Or is her young heart left desolate ? 

She threw him a rose, and her eyelids fell — 

Did she throw him her own proud heart as well ? 

He did not question, he never dreamed ; 
He was too honest by far to guess 



10 TEE EEFABTURE, 

That her act was aught but the thing it seemed, 

Coquettish, pretty, and meaningless ; 
But he thought of her eyes as she said good-by. 
Calm and bright as the morning sky. 

The sun struck gold from her rippled hair, 
Her light scarf trailed in the morning dew. 

Her arms hung listless, and white, and bare. 
As slowly she paced the garden through ; 

Never a sob, though her heart was torn. 

But she smiled at herself with a strange self-scorn. 

" Too late, too late ! " was the moan she made. 

Only that and her long-drawn sighs ; 
" She does not love me ! " was all he said. 

As the great tears dropped from his downcast eyes, 
And he folded close to his faithful breast 
The rose whose blushing was love confessed. 

So his soldierly step he bent 
Down to the village to meet the train, 

And out from his peaceful home he went, 
Never in life to return again ; 

But early in autumn a coffin came, 

The rough lid stamped with his age and name. 



THE DEPABTUBE. \\ 

Lonely he sleeps mid sun and shower. 

Where marbles glimmer and willows wave ; 

But a woman's heart, and a faded flower, 
Lie buried deep in the soldier's grave. 

Does he know it ? Ah, who can tell 

If at last he is sure that she loved him well ! 



LOVE'S LONGING. 

/~\NLY to see your face — 
^-^ To look on it once again ; 
Whatever the time or place, 

Or whether in joy or pain : 
A look of a moment long, 

A glimpse as you passed me by — 
Ah, love ! the prayer of the heart is strong. 

However subdued its cry. 

Only to hear your voice. 

Angry, or proud, or meek — 
Beloved, I have no choice — 

Only to hear you speak. 
A word from your lips to hear, 

Whatever its tone might be ; 
I would not care if you cursed me, dear, 

So that you spoke to me ! 



LOVE'S LONGING. 13 

Only to touch you, sweet, 

Passing by in a crowd — 
You would hear my wild heart beat, 

Telling its bliss aloud : 
Only to see your face. 

To know that you spoke to me. 
To touch your hand for a moment's space 

I would barter eternity ! 



ENDED. 

/^ VER and done, and the sun has set ; 
^^ Day is hiding behind the sea ; 
Over and done ! Shall we both forget ? 
Who knows what is yet to be ? 

I know what will come at the last of all — 

Deep, deep rest, under sun and moon ; 
The roses are withered, the dead leaves fall. 
And snow will be falling soon. 

Over and done ! Oh, beautiful day ! 

Did you part in anger or scorn ? 
Night comes sullen and cold and gray. 
But you will return at morn ! 

And smile on the world with a tender light. 

Oh, me ! for my endless pain ! 
For a day that has passed from my longing sight, 
Never to dawn ao-ain. 



EASTWARD. 

TT LOOK out over the fair, green land, 

And I feel the warm tears start ; 
The sun goes down in the glowing west, 
But eastward flies my heart. 
Oh, but to be a happy bird. 

To fly from this valley-nest, 
Over the purple mountain-tops, 
Away to my true-love's breast. 

There in the East a city lies. 

Splendid with dome and spire ; 
There in the East are the dreamy eyes, 
And the lips of my long desire. 
Oh, if I were a happy bird 
Flying out of the West, 
Would he open his window wide. 
And give me another nest ? 

Oakland, Cal., June 7, 1863. 



DO YOF EEMEMBER? 

Tr\ O you remember, darling ? 
-^-^ The mist from the meadow crept 
Over the level landscape, 
Moonlight and silence slept. 

Do you remember, darling ? 

We stood in the open door. 
And our shadows fell together, 

Blent on the moonlit floor. 

Do you remember, darling ? 

You gave me a soft brown braid. 
And a rose-bud out of your bosom. 

To bear on my heart, you said. 

Do you remember, darling ? 

I'm wearing your keepsakes yet, 
But you seem to have quite forgotten ; 
Why cannot I, too, forget ? 



LOVE'S VALUE. 



"TTTHAT is love worth ? A smile, 

^ ^ Such, as a maiden to her mirror gives, 
Curling her hair the while. 



What is love worth ? A sigh, 

Breath from the fulness of a youthful heart. 

Whose pleasures satisfy. 

What is love worth ? A tear. 

The lightest ever dropped from happy eyes. 

When joy and hope are near. 

What is love worth ? Ah, sweet. 

Is love worth this true, tender heart, I lay 

At your dear maiden feet ? 



AN APRIL DAY. 



A LONG a winding woodland path, 
^-^ Throngh leafy arches low and dim. 
Toward the sweet murmur of a brook, 

Li silent mood, I followed him. 



The April sky hung soft and dark. 
Divided between smile and frown ; 

By turns the large, warm rain-drops fell, 
By turns the yellow sun looked down. 

Nor bird nor bee with music broke 
The charm of silence in the air ; 

Only afar the dreamy voice 

Of flowing water murmured there. 

We loitered slowly and apart ; 

I moved behind with bated breath; 



AN APRIL DAY. 19 

That hour I would have followed him 
Unto the very gates of death ! 

And he — he held the brush aside, 
He shook the boughs that crossed my way : 

How should I dream his love was like 
That sweet, uncertain April day ? 

Beside the stream he paused and turned. 
Awaiting me with hands outspread : 

" Oh, come ! " he broke the silent spell, 
" Here are the violets," he said — 

" The sweetest, earliest of the year. 

See where they glimmer few and frail." 

" Oh, dearest, gather them for me ; 

And when their scent and beauty fail — 

" I'll keep them sacred for the sake 
Of your dear eyes, so soft and blue." 

He turned and clasped me in his arms. 
He seemed to look me through and through. 

With one long, eager, asking gaze. 
Ah! well, he kissed my lips and brow. 



20 AN APRIL DAY. 

And hid my violets in his breast — 
And all is but a memory now. 



From spring to spring my life goes on, 
Not quite bereft of love and grace, 

IsTor all overshadowed in the loss 
Of one beloved and vanished face. 

But when the violets first unclose, 
My heart counts up her lonely years ; 

And when the April rain-drops fall, 
I cannot keep my foolish tears. 



TO 



T O W darts the light across the Western wold ; 
■^^ Long, quivering beams lie on the silent sea ; 
The East is blue, the West is wrapped in gold — 
Clothed as my spirit is in love for thee. 



II. 

From the clear waves the sunbeams melt away ; 

Above the far horizon's rim I see 
One faint, white sail against the fading day — 

As cold and faint as is thy love for me. 

Oakland, Cal., June 15, 1863. 



ONE LITTLE LOCK. 

^"V~\NE little lock of your hair, 
^-^ One little curl to press 
On my lips and my longing heart — 
Darling, one little tress ! 

Oh, what a simple boon ! 

You have not the heart to refuse — 
So great a treasure for me to gain, 

So little for you to lose. 

You cannot refuse me this ; 

And, dear, wherever I go, 
I'll always keep it hidden away — 

No one shall ever know. 

When I go to my lonely rest. 
In the desolate, silent night. 



ONE LITTLE LOCK 23 

I may kiss it, and sleep, and dream 
Of a day that was fair and bright. 

Of a day that was sweet and brief — 

I have no wish to complain, 
But it seems that I long and yearn 

For a gleam of its light again. 

Beloved, I never thought. 

Then, when my world was fair, 
That ever I'd ask in vain 

For a curl of your golden hair. 

One little lock of your hair, 

On my desolate heart to lie ; 
One little tress to keep and caress. 

For the sake of a day gone by ! 



CONTRADICTION. 

Ql HE sat and looked at the falling leaves, 
^^ Looked at the sunless autumn sky, 
And " Oh, that I were a leaf! " she said, 
" Calmly to fade and die ; 
Drop and be covered with gentle snow. 
Never another spring to know." 

Then, as the solemn night came down, 
She saw heaven's jewels gleam afar. 
Faithful and tender and pure ; she said : 
" Oh, that I were a star. 

Over my lover, by sea or shore. 
To shine forever and evQrmore !" 



SEVERED. 



rpAKE my hand and say good-by, 
Love, our paths must separate lie ; 



Far apart our lives shall be 

As those lands that shore the sea ; 

There must live no sign or token 
Of the bond that Fate hath broken ; 

Nor a ship or bark be seen 

On the waste that lies between ; 

Nor a hand held out to thee, 
Whatsoe'er thy danger be ; 

Parted as the mountains stand, 
By long leagues of valley- land ; 



26 8EVEBED, 

Where no laughing waters flow, 
Nor the birds fly to and fro ; 

Separate as the planets are, 
Each a pale but living star ; 

Each a prisoner in his place. 
Looking down with patient face ; 

Parted, parted, evermore. 

As by sea, the shore from shore; 

As by valleys mountains are, 
As by spaces, star from star. 

When the end of all has come, 
And the lips are closed and dumb. 

When the eyes that watch and weep. 
Fold themselves in endless sleep. 

And our souls are free of pain. 
Will God let us meet again ? 



DECREED, 



Hi 



_ERE, in the silent night, 
When even those who love me best are gone, 
Through the dark house there glimmers not a light, 
I sit alone : 

Alone as I shall be 
When I am still, and breath hath passed away ; 
And there is nothing left to earth of me. 

But coffined clay. 

Fancy me dead — 
Lying beyond the clasping of thy love. 
Never again to raise my wearied head. 

Or breathe, or move : 



28 DECREED, 

All my heart cold. 
Colder than even now, snow-cold as it may seem, 
My ended life, like to a tale half told — 

A broken dream. 

Thou wouldst live on : 
God sends not suffering to smite or slay, 
But as the night's last hour — the darkest one — 

Just ere the day, 

To make more dear 
The longed-for splendors of approaching light ; 
Love, thy soul's purity, by every tear 

Is made more white. 

Take up the cross — 
And take for evermore farewell of me ; 
But oh, beloved, believe, the greater loss 

Is mine — in thee ! 



WHEN WE ARE PARTED. 

^ TTTHEN we are parted — when I have seen you, 
^ ^ darling, 

For the last time in all my lonely life — 
When these strange hours are ended, and within my 
bosom 
Reigns cold despair, where now is eager strife ; 
When the long kiss is given, the farewell spoken, 

And that last precious hour has flitted by ; 
When my close clasp of your dear hand is severed. 
Will not God pity me, and bid me die ? . 

When we are parted, dearest — when no longer 
I dare to hope or dream that we shall meet. 

Would my cheek burn as now, my heart beat stronger. 
To hear the coming of your well-known feet ? 

Would the nlere sense of duty so estrange me 
That I could pass you, darling, coldly by. 



30 WEEJSi WE ABE PARTED, 

Beloved, ere the world and time so change me, 
May God be merciful, and let me die ! 

When we are parted — not as now, for hours. 

Whose lengths go by in mingled joy and pain, 
But always parted — ^will the birds and flowers 

Come back, and go and come and go again ? 
And ever newly, with the spring-tide waking. 

Will memory flood the soul, and dim the eye ? 
Ah, love, the strongest heart bears but one breaking : 

When the spring comes without thee, I shall die ! 



AT THE FERRY. 



""VyOT a kiss — ^not a tear- 
■^^ Not even so much 
As an uttered word, 
— Not a touch ! 



Oh, the passion, the pain, 
So coldly to part ! 

But I gave you' one look, 
— ^And my heart. 

You will pardon me then. 
And you understand 

That my soul is yours, 
— Not my hand. 



WHY? 

nn\ ARK hair, and dark, dark eyes, 
-^^ And a smile so strange and sweet. 
That, were I bound for Paradise, 
Thy smile could stay my feet : 

Though my heart break for love of thee, 

Beloved, never smile on me ! 

I come — as pilgrims come — 

To worship at a shrine ; 
Be thou as marble, cold and dumb. 
To each wild prayer of mine : 

Though I should die, beseeching thee. 
Beloved, never answer me ! 



AN HOUR. 

TTTAS it an hour? It seemed to me 
^ ^ A lifetime while we sat alone, 

The room as silent as a tomb might be, 
But for one tone — 

Like the sound ripples make, 
Breaking forever on the strand ; 

Thy voice the eager waves, my heart 
The dumb, cold sand. 

Did I not hear the words 

Such as all lovers speak ? 
Did I not feel thy breath 

Warm on my cheek ? 

Were not my features cold 
As those of death ? 

8 



34 AN HOUR. 

Did not my lips deny 
One answering breath ? 

I could have yielded, then, 
All this world's bliss. 

Just to have offered thee 
One lover's kiss — 



My highest hopes on earth, 
Even those fixed above. 

Just to have answered thee. 
Saying, "Hove!" 

Didst thou deem me unkind, 
Thy passion, thy prayer. 

Thy breathless tenderness, 
Wasted in air — 

I could have laid me down. 

Low at thy feet ; 
I could have welcomed death. 

Calling it sweet ; 



AN HOUR. 35 



I could have given away, 

In tears, my soul. 
Just to have healed thy heart, 

And made it whole ! 



DOUBT. 

TN" June, when the roses hung 

Over the hedges, heavy with dew, 
And softly the skylark sung 

Out of his cloud in the endless blue, 
I walked through the summer land, ' 

A delicate foot kept step with mine, 
In mine there nestled a darling hand, 
And life was a thing divine ! 

But now, if the roses bum. 

Pouting their lips for the sun to kiss ; 
If all things lovely return, 

And only her beautiful face I miss, 

What shall I say to this heart of mine ? 

This heart that is only waiting to break, 
Waiting, waiting the word or sign, 
To break for her darling sake ! 



THE ANSWER. 

""XT'ES, you are kind, and tender, and brave, as a 

-^ man should be ; 
And your heart, I know, is faithful — you have proven 

it so to me ; 
And you love me well — yet, I tell you, 'twere better 

that you should die 
Than pass by all other women, to wed such a one as I ! 

Even, dear, if I loved you — supposing it might be so — 
But that is the idlest dreaming, the v^ainest your soul 

can know — 
Years ago — so many, I count them over with pain- 
Love came, possessed, and forsook me — it never will 

come again ! 
Only once in a lifetime, the poet says, in his song : 
" Ah, well ! 'tis often enough, God knows, let life be 

ever so long ! " 



38 THE AmWER. 

I pray, as I never have prayed to be saved from woe 

or crime, 
That my passionate heart may be shielded from loving 

a second time ! 



You are wiser, more calm than I ; 'tis plain and pleas- 
ant to you ; 

Your instincts are all unerring, your judgment so pure 
and true ; 

Love is your crown of glory, the seal of a bliss di- 
vine : 

Love is the crown of thorns and the scourge to a 
soul like mine ! 



Not that I am so weak, or wicked, or fickle, as women 

go; 

I would not pain you, dear, by seeming to reckon my- 
self too low : 

But I know that, if I had courage to speak the whole 
of my mind. 

You would no longer wonder that I call you foolish 
and blind. 



THE Am WEB, 39 

I can fancy so well the change that would come o'er 

your handsome face, 
If I should open my heart to you and show you that 

dreary place — 
The ruined shrine where passion's fire burned out in 

the days gone by, 
Where only the black, charred embers, and the cold, 

white ashes lie ! 



And strangest of all, it seems to me, that no outward 

scars I bear 
Of the wounds of my terrible battle, when victory 

meant despair ; 
I have won and worn my laurels — do you know that I 

wear them now — 
Though there is not a silver thread in my hair, nor 

a wrinkle upon my brow ? 



And men still find me beautiful, and come and kneel 
at my feet ; 

But I shudder, and turn away — away from the lov- 
ing eyes I meet ! 



40 THE ANSWER. 

It seems a strange and terrible thing — life's wine 

should be wasted so, 
And love's one tender flower be cast on a grave that 

is heaped with snow ! 

So, good-by, and God bless you ! Believe it a kindly 

fate 
That severs us here forever — we met each other too 

late ; 
And I must go my way through the world alone until 

I die, 
And when you are older and wiser, you'll be glad that 

I passed you by ! 



DENIAL. 

T DO not love you — not a bit ; 

-*- And yet, how strange it seems ! — your touch 

Is not unpleasant — far from it ; 

Why, if I loved you much and much, 
I cannot fancy that your kiss 
Would thrill me any more than this ! 

I do not love you — oh, I'm sure — 

But when you come, you're welcome still ; 

Your heart is all so kind and pure. 
It can but merit my good-will : 

I know I'm always glad to hear 

Your kindly voice, and know you near. 

I do not love you in the least. 

And yet you're surely dear to me ; 
And, should I look from West to East, 

No face more precious can I see ; 
And should I hear that you were wed — 
I think the news would strike me dead ! 



WAITING. 

Qi HE dro]3ped the curtain-fold and turned, 
'^ And looked no more on star or cloud ; 
Within, the lamp and firelight burned ; 

Her mother's picture, tranquil-browed, 
Looked down and watched her face to face. 
Unheeding, full of saddest grace. 
She knelt beside her cushioned chair. 
And loosed the braids of yellow hair 
That shaded pensive cheek and brow ; 

Then clasped her hands above her head, 
And leaning, watched the drowsy fire 

Drop down its ashes white and dead. 

For hope deferred had made her sick — 
Sick, sick, unto the heart's deep core ; 

Long hours she heard the slow clock tick, 
And listened to the sounds without ; 
And now in fear and now in doubt. 
And every foot that passed the door. 



WAITING. 43 

Seemed treading swiftly o'er her heart. 
Anon, with sudden, joyous start, 

She raised her head ; quick blushes came ! 
She heard his foot upon the floor, 

Her parted lips had formed his name — 
And then the fire burned as before ; 

The clock ticked on ; and, just the same, 
ITnmoved and calm, her mother's face 
Looked down and watched her from its place. 



SONNET. 



DARKNESS. 



T ONG, long ago in June — sweet, fragrant June ! 
-"^ The shining stars, like silver lamps hung high, 
Burned purely, in the absence of the moon ; 

Darkly the hill-tops rose against the sky ; 
Dark was the lane ; but from one window streamed 

A long, bright ray that crossed the garden's space. 
And struck the hedge where snowy hawthorn gleamed. 

I felt the dew's cool softness on my face, 
As up and down we strayed, hand clasping hand — 

It was my one sweet glimpse of Paradise ! 
The dim-lit Heaven, the dark and dewy land. 

Thy dewy lips — thy dark and tender eyes — 
Nor day can ever dawn so golden bright to me 
As that still, moonless night, in the long lane with 
thee. 



GOOD-BY. 



~T3C)UND the veranda - railing the red, red roses 
-^ ^ hung ; 

Under the early sunlight the garden-walks were dry ; 
And light-hearted birds were singing. What was the 
song they sung ? 
Sweetly they chirped and trilled it — "Good-by, 
good-by, and good-by ! " 



There on the steps we stood, a sad little while to- 
gether : 
Never a touch of the hand or lips, not a tear nor an 
uttered sigh ; 
But we played with the hanging roses — talked of the 
pleasant weather, 
Our hearts repeating forever — " Good-by, good-by, 
and good-by ! " 



FORSAKEN. 

"T row many waves, with their caps of foam, 

Rise and fall betwixt thee and home ? 
How many leagues of restless sea 
Separate thee, my beloved, from me ? 

Bound for that land, so far away. 
The tall ships pass from the open bay ; 
But alone, alone, on the lonely land. 
With desolate, breaking heart I stand — 

And follow the sails with yearning gaze. 
Till they glimmer down in the ocean-haze; 
For so it seemeth my soul may be 
A little the nearer, beloved, to thee. 



ACROSTIC. 



A 



STAR that sees its image lie, 
Deep where still waves reflect the sky, 
A joyous wind that wanders by ; 

Roses within the heart of June, 

A snow-drift shining to the moon, 

Noon's glory over land and sea — 

So seems thy beauty unto me ; 

Oh, deep and sweet, and fresh and pure, 

May thy soul's loveliness endure ! 



FOR EVERMORE. 



nn)ARTED forever, yes, forever parted ! 
-^ To meet and greet you calmly, as a friend, 
And yet, beloved, to know you broken-hearted — 
Is this the bitter end ? 



Is this the end ? Here, in my lonely chamber, 
I wake at midnight, and alone I weep. 

Where I had hoped to hear you softly breathing 
In your sweet, peaceful sleep : 

Where I had hoped to hear your footstep echo. 
Your ringing laugh, your voice so childish sweet, 

Making me answer — where I had hoped, at even, 
Tour welcome kiss to meet ! 

Parted forever ? Ah, as widely parted 
As if the solemn ocean rolled between — 



FOR EVERMORE. 49 



So vast the gulf that severs utterly 
What is from what has been ! 



Parted forever ! — then, when we stood all mutely. 
And your arms held me, clinging close and fast, 

Was it the last — that silent kiss you gave me — 
For evermore the last ? 



Sweet was the tempting cup we drank together ; 

Pausing ere yet the sweetest drop was drained. 
We moved apart. And my heart broke, in keeping 

Your woman's soul unstained ! 

You went, with steadfast eyes, and face uplifted ; 

Is there a long, long pilgrimage to make ? 
Trust me, beloved, I will take heart and courage, 

For your most precious sake. 

To live^ — to move— each in our separate places ; 

Sometimes to smile, and talk in friendly wise. 
Across that dark abyss wherein lies buried, 

Our key of Paradise ! 



50 FOR EVEBMOBE. 

The gate is shut and locked, the lovely portal 
That we had hoped to pass some future time, 

Hand given to hand, heart unto heart, repeating 
Love's old sweet rhyme. 

Dear, ended hope ! the weary night and morning 
Follow each other through the weary year ; 

For me no moment of the day or darkness 
Will bring thee kind and near. 

Is there a recompense for souls that suffer, 

Bearing life's heavy cross through ice and fire ? 

Is there in heaven, at last, the sweet fulfilment 
Of earth's long, deep desire ? 

Oh ! if I might believe, and trusting, follow 
Thy patient footsteps to the heavenly shore ; 

But, love, I only know that we are parted — 
Parted for evermore ! 



FRAGMENT. 

rriHE waves sweep up and down, caressing the dead 
-^ white sand 
That lies as mute as a long cold corpse under the kiss 

of love, 
The passionate touches and praying to which there is 

no reply, 
Nor even a hope of answer, though love's deep heart 

should break, 
As the long, quick, eager billows break and fall at my 

feet ! 

Is there no hope of answer ? Never again on earth. 
Never from swift uplifted eyes that made me once 

sweetest speech, 
Never from tender lips or the blushes on cheek and 

brow ? 



52 FE A a ME NT, 

No more words in the low, sweet voice that sank like 

dew on my soul — 
No more words, not any, not even a sigh ! 

Do you listen, my dearest ? The great dark earth is 

still ; 
Into the waste of waters the moon glides down like a 

ghost. 
Whom the breath of the morn surprises. . . . Still — 

it is all so still, 
That it seems you cannot but hear me, tho' you were 

buried deep, 
And the clods and stones fell a long way down to strike 

on your coifin-lid ! 

Oh, love, when I heard them falling, beating your 

tender breast, 
I thought, " What horrible dream is this ? It cannot 

possess me long : 
Oh, that I might awaken — now, ere my strong heart 

break ! " 
And then, as a dreamer will, I strove to dissolve the 

spell. 



FRAGMENT , 53 

Clenched my hands together, and stamped on the solid 

ground, 
Crying : " Awaken, heart ! " lone heart, that can never 

awake ! 



And I saw, in my dreaming, the fresh, green sod 

smoothed over your quiet bed. 
And I gathered a white field-daisy that clung to the 

tangled grass ; 
— The spade's sharp edge had cruelly severed the 

slender stem. 
You were always so fond, so fond of the common 

wayside flowers ! — 
I carried the daisy home for your sake, when I left 

you sleeping there. 

Sleeping, dear ? Are you sleeping too soundly to hear 

my cry ? — 
Oh, dead ! Are you dead, beloved, as this white sand 

under my feet ? 
Was it a handful of dust that I worshipped so tenderly ? 
The pallid face with eyelids sealed, and lips so passive 

and cold ; 



54 FRAGMENT. 

The coffined, enshrouded form, with patient and list- 
less hands — 

Voiceless, sightless, unheeding! Was that, indeed, 
what I loved ? 

Dear, there is light in heaven, though the fair, white 

moon is gone ; 
The blue above is purer, the stars grow distant and 

dim; 
For the gate of the day swings open, and far in the 

yellow east 
The long, dark woods come slowly out of the shadow 

of night ; 
The fields grow golden and white with their treasures 

of waving grain, 
And the world into light awakens — the dark, dark 

hour — it is past ! 



SUSPENSE. 

-AH! the sun was less than golden, 
■ ^ * - And the world was less than fair ; 
Silver sheen of tender moonlight, 
Crimson cloud in morning air ; 
Gorgeous hues of glowing summer, 

When a million blossoms shook — 
Cold and sombre — ^while I waited 
For a look ! 

Ah, the wind had lost its music. 
And the sea I loved was dumb ; 

Birds forgot their merry trilling. 
And the bees their busy hum ; 

There was naught of tune or sweetness 
In the thousand sounds I heard : 

All was discord, while I waited 
For a word ! 



56 SUSPJEME, 

Ah, my soul forgot her journey, 
Flush of hope and throb of pain. 

Wine of earth and draught celestial, 
Honor's crown and labor's gain ! 

Death and life were idle shadows. 
Even heaven's immortal bliss 

Paled and faded, while I waited 
For a kiss ! 



ONCE. 



A 



RED September sunset stained the sky. 
Through the wide-open windows, high and bare, 
Came sudden balmy wafts of fragrant air ; 

Alone we sat together, you and I, 

Five years ago my friend, this very day ; 

But ere the sunset faded you were gone. 

And one by one the faint beams crept away. 

And I sat looking at the stars alone. 

Youth lay around me, and the autumn sky 

Sparkled with stars, like points of living light ; 
My heart seemed boundless as heaven's arches high. 

For every star of hope shone keen and bright ; 
And stars and hopes were myriad — bitter tears 
Since have outnumbered both, through five long 
weary years. 



LOVE. 

~1\ /FY heart o'erflows as a cup with wine ; 
-I-tJ- ppii2k, beloved, the draught is thine ; 
Drown thy passion, thine eager pain — 
Then give me the empty cup again. 

Drink, beloved, and drench thy soul ; 
But keep me the goblet pure and whole ; 
Give it unbroken back, I pray — 
It may fill to o'erflowing another day. 



FIRST POEMS. 



A MOTHER'S OFFERING. 

1861. 



G< 



~0, at thy country's call. 
Whatever gentle bonds may hold thee here. 
Whatever tender claims may seem more dear, 
Thy duty !— first of all. 

Go ! And God guard thy way — 
Through all the hidden dangers of the night, 
Through pain and peril — to the dawning light 

Of peaceful day. 

Go ! Thy young heart is brave. 
Battle for right with all thy strength and will. 
Shouldst thou not triumph, thou at least canst fill 

A soldier's grave. 



52 ^ MOTHER'S OFFEBING. 

Go ! If the cause be won. 
On the bright record free of stain or blot 
Thy name shall shine forever; but if not, 

God's will be done ! 

Go ! I can say adieu 
As gladly as a greeting home to thee, 
And look my last through smiles, if thou wilt be 

Firm, brave, and true. 

Go ! my one child ! my joy — 
Unto his country for whatever fate. 
By these last tears, O Heaven ! I consecrate 

My only boy ! 



IN" SPRING. 

/^H, the heartache and the pain, 
/"^ When the snow-drifts fall away. 
And the violet faces rise, 
From the clay ! 

I had rather far be dead, 

When I hear the robins sing. 

As they build their leafy nests 
In the spring. 

Once I blossomed sweet and fair, 
Once I sang the livelong day. 

Once my happy nest I made, 
In the May. 

But my song and beauty failed. 
And my little ones took wing. 

And my heart's an empty nest, 
N"ow, in spring. 



FLIGHT. 

O SWIFT and happy things ! 
O birds, that cleave the blue, bright air ! 
I envy you those strong and rapid wings, 
Tour freedom everywhere. 

I weary of the ground ; 

I long to rise and soar away 
Into that silence where there breaks no sound — 

The brighter, better day. 

I need such joyous strength ! 

— ^Dear soul, you wear an earthly chain ; 
Your freedom, late it may be, comes at length, 

Nor ever ends again. 

The birds, so fair and free, 

They fall and die upon the sod ; 
But those strong wings wherewith death gifteth thee, 

Will fly as far as God ! 



MY BOAT. 

"TNTO the twilight, into the night, 
-^ My little boat sailed away ; 
Past the lingering sunset light, 

At the gates of day ; 
Past the headlands, lofty and dim, 

And the light-house spark. 
Over the misty ocean-rim, 

Dropped into the dark. 

The soft waves rolled to my waiting feet, 

And went and came ; 
I saw the sea and the moonrise meet, 

In a silver flame ; 
Saw the white clouds drift and float 

On the endless blue, 

And daylight break — but my little boat, 

It was lost to view. 
5 



66 ^^ BOAT, 

The waves sing on, with a strange delight, 

Round the pleasant coast, 
And sometimes a pure sail moves in sight. 

Like a gliding ghost ; 
But mine, that went o'er a sunset sea. 

From the safe, green shore, 
I know it has faded away from me, 

To return no more I 






FAITH TREMBLING. 

TTTERE I a happy bird 

^ ^ Building my little nest each early spring, 
It might be easy then to keep God's word, 

His praise to sing ; 
Easy to live content. 

Tending my little ones — of love secure, 
Knowing no agony for time misspent. 

Or thought impure ! 

Were I a butterfly, 

A bright winged creature of the sunshine born. 
Idle and lovely I could live and die 

Without self-scorn ; 
I need not fear 

To take my utmost Avill of summer sweet — 
Nor dread when the swift end came near. 

My Judge to meet ! 



68 FAITH TEEMBLING. 

If I were only made 

Patient, and calm, and pure, as angels are, 
I had not been so doubtful — sore afraid 

Of sin and care ; 
It would seem sweet and good 

To bear the heavy cross that martyrs take, 
The passion and the pain of womanhood 

For my Lord's sake. 

But strong, and fair, and young, 

I dread my glowing limbs — ^my heart of fire, 
My soul that trembles like a harp full strung 

To keen desire ! 
Oh, wild and idle words ! 

Will God's large charity and patience be 
Given unto butterflies and singing birds, 

And. not to me? 



ROSE AND LILY. 

T~)UT a rose beside her head, 
-^ She was fair as roses are — 
Fair and sweet — but she is dead ; 

Move with care. 
Warm hands, touch her soft and light : 

Will she know how light and kind, 
Lying, robbed of sound and sight, 

Deaf and blind ! 

Put a lily in her breast. 

Do not fear to shame it so ; 
She was fairest, purest, best — 

Whisper low. 
Softly speak, dear friend, and move ; 

Though this be but senseless clay. 
Is the soul we know and love 

Far away ? 



MORNING LAND. 

"T~\EEP in the dreamy distance, 
-"-^ Traced on a faint-blue sky, 
Lonely and fair and solemn, 
The hills of morning lie. 

A pilgrim, I wander onward. 
Far from that morning land ; 

The pathway is rough and stony, 
Through regions of barren sand. 

And my feet they are slow and weary, 

But often I turn and gaze 
Back at that peaceful landscape. 

Veiled in its golden haze. 

There is but the gentle outline 
Of valley and mountain-land. 

But memory touches the picture 
With tender and faithful hand. 



MOBNINa LAND, 71 

Out of the far-off dimness 

The places I loved appear, 
Orchard and field and meadow, 

The house with the willows near ; 

The porch where the woodbine-blossoms 

Their cups of perfume swung, 
And quaint old rooms where I loitered 

When spirit and life were young. 

But the faces beloved are shadowed, 

Pallid and dim they seem ; 
And the voices beloved are distant, 

Like voices heard in a dream. 

And outstretched hands that beckon. 

Beckon and wave in vain ; 
The way that my feet have trodden 

They cannot return again. 

A pilgrim, I wander onward, 

Weary and travel- worn. 
Seeking the low, green gateway 

That leads into endless morn. 



WHAT LACK I YET? 



"TTTHAT lack I yet ? There's sunshine at my door, 

^ ^ A broad, blue sky above the level moor — 
But, oh my life ! my life so cold and poor ! 



What lack I yet ? The robins flutter by. 
And nests are made ; I hear the nestlings cry. 
Oh, robin, you are richer far than I. 

What lack I yet ? Sweet, eager voices call — 
The children play beside my garden wall — 
I sit, I look and listen — that is all. 

What lack I yet ? My home, my lands are fair ; 
I walk, I sleep, I have no pain to bear, 
Nor any sting of conscience, weight of care. 



WHAT LACK I YETf 73 

What lack I yet ? My hair is silver gray — 
Love was my guest through all the happy day, 
But night draws on, and Love hath passed away. 

What lack I yet ? Silence and sleep are best, 

God sendeth peaoe unto the weary breast. 

What lack I yet, save death's sweet touch, and rest ? 



AT SCHOOL. 

T" AST night I sat by my window, 
-*-^ At the dying of the day, 
And I heard the soft rain falling 

From clouds of desolate gray ; 
Last night I sat by my window, 

And I thought the drops of rain 
Were tears of angels, weeping 

For life's unending pain. 

The wind, in its passionate sobbing, 

Had sorrowful tales to tell ; 
And I thought of the time of parting 

From the friends I have loved so well ; 
I thought how the forms around me. 

The faces I see to-day. 
Will be gone, and perhaps forever 

Vanished, like dreams, away ! 



AT SCHOOL. 75 

Again with its wealth of roses, 

Again with its wild flowers sweet, 
June will come, but the woodland paths 

Will be trodden by other feet ; 
And ours will wander whither ? — 

Whither, oh, who can tell ! 
For the coming years are mute as death, 

And guard their secrets well. 

But other footsteps lightly 

Will tread the dear old halls. 
And other voices will ring out 

Within the dear old walls ; 
And the bell will sound at eventide, 

To call the loiterers home — 
But the feet that now obey it, 

Never again may come : 

May be wandering, lost, and weary, 

Out from the shepherd's fold — 
To linger no more forever 

In places they knew of old. 
And some that I see around me, 

Ere the roses come again — 



76 ^T SCHOOL. 

May be sleeping, long, and deeply. 
The slumber that knows not pain. 

But the past will be very sacred, 

With a tender and sad regret. 
And its halls will be filled with pictures 

Which the soul cannot forget ! 
And oft, in the solemn twilight. 

The veil shall seem drawn away, 
And once more they will stand around me- 

The friends that I love to-day. 

Though my soul may be world-weary. 

My lips may be tired of breath, . 
And my heart, in its ceaseless beating. 

May long for the calm of death ; 
Yet I know that remembrance holy. 

Dear memories' softened glow. 
Will give to my weary spirit 

The peace of the long ago. 

And the same sky will be o'er me. 
Wherever my feet may be, 



AT SCHOOL, 

And the same strong hand will guide me 

Throughout eternity. 
For the paths that on earth may lead us 

From those we love biest away, 
May come together in heaven, 

In the light of eternal day. 

F. E. I.— Spring Term, 



HOPELESS. 

T SLEEP and wake — I sleep and wake, 

The world it is fair and grand ; 
The long nights wane and the long days break 
Over a lovely land 

Where clover-fields are red as the blush 

On a happy maiden's cheek, 
And bluebirds flutter from bush to bush. 

And butterflies hide and seek. 

The mountains yearn to the far, blue sky. 

And the silver waters fall. 
And dreaming, the happy valleys lie, 

And sunshine is over all ! 

But, if I could choose between life and death, 

Between the night and the day. 
Gladly Pd give unto God my breath. 

Ere an hour had passed away ! 



HYMN, 



T" ET me not stray, 
■"^"^ Dear Saviour, lost and weary, 
Out from the narrow way. 
The wide is still more dreary ; 
But let one star. 

Shining forever o'er me. 
Though faint and far. 
Be still before me. 



Help me to bear 

My faith in Thee unbroken ; 
Thou hearest prayer 
E'en though unspoken ; 
Grant me above the cross 

The crown to see — 
Heaven nearer by each loss 
That falls on me ! 



DREAMLESS. 

THEY dream not, slumbering where the sunlight 
falls, 
Where in the summer-time the wild-bird calls 
Within the churchyard walls. 

They dream not, in unmiugled silence blest, 
Draining the precious draught of perfect rest : 
Pain imto brain or breast - 

Comes never — oh, how sweet to lie 
All silently beneath the changing sky, 
While the long years go by ! 



EARTH AND HEAVEN. 

/~\H, still October day ! 
^-^ Long, peaceful, golden hours that glide 
Like stately barks on Time's smooth tide, 
To anchor far away. 

Oh, kind and loving sky ! 
The mountains yearn to kiss your face ; 
Secure and smiling in your grace 

The pleasant valleys lie. 

Oh, warm and dreary air — 
Blown out of heaven's gate to bless, 
Oh, touch me with a soft caress, 

And carry back a prayer. 

Oh, Saviour, Lord, and Friend ! 
How beautiful must heaven be. 
Since this fair earth Thou givest me, 

Is beauty without end ! 



DEATH'S RIVER. 



H 



ARK ! the pine-trees 
Shake and shiver 
By the river ; 

Loud the breeze 
Blows forever, ever 
In the trees ! 

Hark ! the low sound 
Of the dark waves, 
While the wind raves 

Cold around. 
And the leaves fall, like a death-pall, 

On the ground ! 

And the bleak night 
Bideth ever 
By the river ; 

But the light 
Cometh never, never 

Fair and bright ! 



FOR SANFORD. 

T SAW a picture, Sanford, 
-*- Once in the days gone by — 
A glimpse of greenest woodland, 

An arch of summer sky ; 
A fallen tree all moss-grown. 

In the lonely and silent dell, 
And a path that came winding downward, 

Where shine and shadow fell. 

And put from the forest dimness, 

Down through that quiet glade, 
A boy and girl came loitering. 

In sunshine and in shade ; 
The light winds played about them. 

The birds sang overhead. 
And fallen leaves of last year 

Rustled beneath their tread. 



84 FOE 8ANF0BD. 

They seemed as a part of spring-time, 

So youthful and glad and fair : 
Both had eyes like the deep, deep sea, 

And the girl had golden hair ; 
And they sat and talked together, 

On the fallen tree in the dell. 
While over the shining river 

Came sounds of a distant bell. 

Then the youth divided an orange. 

In quarters even and fair, 
And she took one and he took one, 

And the other two went — where ? 
But it was as pretty a picture 

As ever I have seen, 
Lighted with golden sunshine. 

And framed in summer green ! 

Album of S. Landt, F. E. L, 1861. 



PATIENCE. 



Q( TILL ! be still, oh, feverish heart ! I long for a 

^ little rest ; 

I am so tired of the cross I bear — but whatever God 

wills is best ; 
Only, the way seems long ! I weary of wandering on ; 
The road grows rougher with every step, and daylight 

is almost gone ! 



Still ! be still, oh, murmuring lips ! Close over the 

yearning cry ; 
The west is dim, but the fair stars shine — safe, safe in 

their happy sky ; 
And heaven seems nearest when daylight dies, and 

God is forever near^ 
Still ! be still, oh, passionate heart ! What is it you 

need to fear ? 



REMEMBRANCE. 



""^T'OW, in the dawn of the spring-time, 
-^^ Jnst when the first leaves come, 
And deep in untrodden woodlands 

The earliest violets bloom — 
How strangely my soul remembers, 

With pleasure that seems half-pain, 
The dear old days that have faded, 

Never to shine ag-ain ! 



When I look from my open window 

O'er the marshes brown and bare, 
I close my eyes to remember 

A picture more sweet and fair ; 
The fields and the distant mountains. 

Bathed in the sunset glow, 
And dim old woods where our footsteps 

Went wandering years ago ! 



REMEMBRANCE. 87 

I see the glimmering river 

That circled the quiet town, 
Spanned by its long, white bridges, 

Where the drift-w^ood floated down ; 
And the elm-trees, tall and stately, 

Shading the village street, 
And the lonely walk by the paper-mill, 

Where the lovers used to meet ! 

And my heart is weary with longing, 

Too weary to hope or pray. 
As I loiter beside my window^ 

This beautiful April day ; 
And the sunshine is only sadness, 

And sad is the changing sky ; 
But saddest of all, the yearning 

For hours that have long gone by ! 



AUTUMN PRAYER. 

nnHE crimson and golden garlands, 
-^ Wreaths that the Autumn wore, 
Are spreading their soft, soft carpet 

Over earth's barren floor ; 
And mutely the bare, brown branches 

Stretch up their hands in prayer. 
Like souls of the world forgotten, 

Asking God's tender care. 

Still are the woodland spaces. 

Still as a room of death ; 
The stream slides down through the silence. 

Murmuring, under breath ; 
Like to some patient pilgrim 

In search of the heavenly shore. 
Softly she goeth onward, 

Praying forever more. 



REQUIESCAT IN PACE. 

/^ OD receive his soul ! — ^Amen. 

^^ Close and seal the wide, dark eyes, 
Where death's awful shadow lies — 

Light will never dawn again ; 
No more tears to weep, 
No raore Avatch to keep, 
Nothing but endless sleep. 

Lay his passive Iiands at rest. 
In the way that they shall be, 
All throughout eternity. 
Cross them idly on his breast ; 

Ere yet the work be done. 
Ere yet the web be spun, 
These listless hands begun. 



90 • EEQUIESCAT IN FACE. 

Make his lips meet once for all ; 
Never more to smile or pray, 
Or a loving word to say, 
Or to answer any call — 

Wan lips so still and cold, 
There is nothing to be told. 
Of the secrets they infold. 

Smooth away the soft brown hair 

From the brow where thought lies dead ; 
On the heart whence love hath fled 
Fold the linen softly down. 

Rest forever, heart and brain ; 
Never passion, care, or pain 
Break thine awful peace again ! 

After Fredericksburg, Decemher^ 1862. 



DAISIES. 

rjlHE world is a sea of snow-white daisies, 
-^ I walk knee-deep in the level tide ; 
Slowly I wade, and the yielding billows 
Part at my coming on either side. 

Make me a path through their lowly sweetness ; 

See, in my wake, like a track of foam. 
Pallid they lie, with their fair heads drooping, 

Sadly marking my pathway home ! 

Oh, trodden-down daisies ! For such brief pleasure, 

To feel your softness under my feet, 
Have I made waste of the tender beauty. 

That bees and butterflies find so sweet ? 



DEGRADED. 

TTTHY did you shrink, with your face half shaded 
^ ^ And turned from mine, as you floated by ? 
You are an innocent woman, and I — 

I have fallen, and lie — degraded. 

I felt your breath — so near we were crowded. 
And the floating silk of a truant curl ; 
I touched your hand, with its ring of pearl — 

Your bosom so modestly veiled and shrouded ; 

Just for a moment — ^then we parted ; 

The crowd gave way, and, with soft, shy grace, 
You turned to look on my sin- worn face. 

With some sweet apology — ^how you started ! 

As if at the sound of a solemn warning. 

Your warm smile faded — you turned your head; 



DEGRADED. 93 

But why did you shrink from me ? I am dead ; 
And a cold, cold corpse, cannot merit scorning. 

Dead as the stones your feet passed over ; 

Dead to the passionate dreams of youth ; 

Dead to all tenderness, honor, truth, 
Dead to the sweetness of love or lover. 



Strange, is it not, how a dream can wean us ? 
While I stood pressed to you closely there 
Feeling the silk of your soft brown hair, 

I had forgotten the gulf between us. 

I had crossed over it in my dreaming, 
And that one moment seemed as a light 
Suddenly struck in the heart of night, 

Only to die while I blessed its beaming — 

Killed by the scorn on your fair young features, 
Killed by their anger and flushing shame ; 
Yet we are women — we share the name — 

Even, at the least, we are both God's creatures. 



94 DEGEADED, 



Have you forgotten how Christ commanded 
A woman to go and sin no more ? 
Do I not carry the stain she bore ? 

Am I not branded, as she was branded? 



Out of His purity He forgave her ; 

You must scorn her because she erred ! 

You would not drop her a loving word, 
Or touch her hand — if a touch could save her ! 

Oh, Christian charity is the oddest 
Of all the charity under the sun ! 
I am a creature to loathe and shun, 

But you — you are innocent, pure, and modest. 

You are carefully kept and shielded ; 

I am sinfully bought and sold ; 

Your price is higher than purest gold, 
For you have withstood — and I have yielded. 

Out of the wonderful wealth God gave you 
Could you not spare me a single mite ? 
Child, from a life such as mine, to-night, 

I could willingly die to save you. 



DEGRADED. 95 

How should you know that my heart was broken, 

Under my jewels so rich and grand ? 

That little ring on your slender hand — 
Was it some faithful lover's token ? 

Do you pray when you first awaken, 

Bend the knee when the day is done ? 

God will hear if you plead for one 
Of love and mercy and grace forsaken ! 

One little prayer for a life long shaded, 

Darkened with passion and grief and shame ; 
One little prayer in the Saviour's name. 

For sake of a woman's soul — degraded ! 



AKGEL-GUIDE. 

^^ /^H, but the path is steep — the burden heavy ! " 
^-^ " Courage, beloved — yet a little way ! " 

" Oh, but the cold winds blow, and night so dreary 
Hurries to hide the day ! " 

'' Look how I stumble on the stony pathway — 

Your feet are sure — your wings are strong and light ; 

I cannot follow after your swift leading 
When it is darksome night." 

" Fear not, beloved — I shall wait thy coming, 
My voice shall warn thee from the precipice ; 

Where death and dangers are, my hand shall cover 
And bridge the dark abyss." 

" But the day wanes — the last red fires are burning 
Low on the threshold of the happy West ; 



ANGEL-aUIDE. 97 

And home-lights shme along the warm, green valley 
Where safety is — and rest." 

" Look not behind, dear soul — thou canst not tarry ; 

A long and lonely pilgrimage is thine ; 
But darkness will be pierced with starry splendor. 

And late, the moon will shine." 

" Oh, but my heavy cross ! If my strength fail me 
Long ere the mountain-top, what must I do ? " 

" If thy strength fail, at last, my arm shall bear thee — 
Thou, and thy burden, too." 



so YOUNG. 

T WAS so young — so young ! 
-^ Gay as the butterliy on its wing— 
Over the hedge the roses hung, 
And I heard the oriole sing. 
The merry wind went by, 

Lightly it lifted my floating hair ; 
Mine was a blue and cloudless sky, 
And the whole round world was fair ! 

I was so young — so young ! 

I ran through the clover and meadow sweet- 
I mocked the birds with my careless tongue 
And the brook with my nimble feet. 
The moths and the dragon-flies, 

I loved to follow them up and down ; 
I made of the earth my paradise, 
Its bitterest fruit unknown ! 



so YOUNG, 99 

I was so young — so young ! 

But is it long since my leafy June ? 
Why should my soul seem warped and wrung 
Like an instrument out of tune ? 
I long to grow old and gray — 

It seems that beauty and youth are vain. 
And I would to God I were hidden away 
From my passionate love and pain ! 



LIGHT LOVE. 

"XT^OU loved her well — so well ! 

^- Come, now, and speak your mind. 
Have you no pleasant tale to tell, 

No whisj)er soft and kind ? 
Passive she lies, and still. 

You loved to murmur in her willing ear- 
Now you may cry aloud, or whisper low, 

She will not hear ! 

Her beauty charmed your soul ; 

Draw near and look on her — 
Nay, satisfy your ardent gaze ! 

She will not flush or stir ; 
Nor turn aside her head, 

Nor raise her modest eyes. 
See, the dark fringe is frozen down. 

No more to rise ! 



LIGHT LOVE. iQi 

You knew her warm and kind — 

Poor heart, too kind and warm ! 
Come, now and take her in the old close clasp ; 

She fears not stain or harm. 
Nay, but your tears are late ! 

You loved her well — so well — 
Would you had wept in time to save 

Her soul from hell ! 



WRITTEN IN SAND. 



npHE long, white waves ran up the beach, 
-^ And white and silver shone the sand, 
As, far beyond the billows' reach, 
I wrote a name upon the strand. 



The sea-shells glittered in the sun. 
The snowy fringes softly swept ; 

Still slowly gaining, one by one, 

Close to my written Avord they crept. 

" Turn, turn, O tide, and spare me yet 
My one dear hope of ended years I " 

But while I cried, the waves had wet 
And washed it out with eao^er tears ! 



WEAEY. 

"VT^OU are weary, idle hands ; you have no work to 
-JL do; 

Diamonds gem your lily fingers like great drops of 

dew — 
Fingers slight that twine each other all the long day 

through. 



You are weary, sweet red lips ; you have no vow to 

speak — 
No impassioned kiss to press against a lover's cheek ; 
All day long you touch each other, pure and meek. 

You are weary, eager eyes, of looking out afar ; 
In the field there gleams a daisy — in the sky, a star ; 
Nothing nearer, dearer, than the flower and planet 
are ! 



The Fifth Avenue Publishing Company 



WILL SHOETLY ISSUE 



FIFTH AVENUE, 

A MAGAZINE OF ENTERTAINING AND INSTEUCTIVE 

FICTION^. 

l^ricef $6 per year, in advance. Single Copies, 50c» 



' All subscriptions forwarded prior to publication of first No., 
will secure the magazine (monthly) for two years, at |6, or one year, at 
lialfprice($3). 

From its initial number, Fifth Avenue will exliibit, in the literary 
value of its contents, the unrivalled elegance of its illustrations, and 
the superb style of its paper, typography, and binding, a degree of ex- 
cellence never before approximated by any periodical. 



' Prospectus, with full particulars, will appear in leading news- 
papers ; previous to which, subscribers' remittances are not desired. 



' The author of " Cometh up as a Flower," ''Not Wisely but 
Too Well," " Bed as a Eose is She," etc., etc., will contribute a new 
serial novel of absorbing interest — in every respect the noblest essay 
of her genius — the MS. of which is preparing expressly for Fifth 
Avenue. A liberal instalment will be given with first number. 



Meady soon, 

ATHIEF IN THE NIGHT! 

AND OTHER TALES. 

BY 

HA-IiUIElT FRESCOXT S:POWWOTlT>. 

Handsomely hound in doth, 12mo. PHce^ $2. 



' As a writer of Short Stories, Mrs. H. P. Spofford lias no 
superior of her sex, either in the Old World or the New. 

Few readers of cultivated taste have failed to enjoy a portion of 
her widely-diffused productions ; but fewer still are acquainted with 
the major part of her best works. Her short serial, 

"A THIEF IN" THE NIGHT!" 

Is unquestionably the finest novelette in American literature. Its 
appearance in book-form, prefixed to a selection comprising the o^me 
de la creme of her many choice stories, is sure to create a decided 
sensation. 

From the fastidious devotees of Thackeray, Hawthorne, or Irving, 
to the multitudinous devourers of "Buffalo Bill," no class of the 
story-reading public but will seize with rapture "A Thief in the 
Night!" 

JBooJcsellerSf ^' make a note of it.'' 

All orders should be sent direct to 

FIFTH AVENUE PUBLISHING CO., 

Box 3,136, NEW YOEK. 



ARTISTS! 

Of ability, at liberty to furnish immediately a share of the annexed 

list, will please communicate their address. Darley, 

Homer, Fenkt, Hallock, preferred. 

^^ No delineations will be accepted which fail to interpret both 
spirit and letter of the text. 

DRAWINGS DESIRED IMMEDIATELY, 

In style of I>arley or Homer. 

To ill. verse : Poem. 

She threw him a rose as he turned away, 

The Depa7'ture. 

" How should I dream his love was like, 

An April Day. 

" For hope deferred had made her sick, 

Wi 



" Sweet was the tempting cup we drank together. 

For Evermore. 

" And men still find me beautiful, and come and kneel 

at my feet, 

The Answer. 

" Unto his country for whatever fate,* 

A Mother'' s Offering. 

" A boy and girl came loitering. 

For Sanford. 

" And some that I see around me, 

At School. 
" But I gave you one look, 

At the Ferry. 
" We stood in the open door, 

Bo you Bememher f 

* '* There is no artist in the world adequate to the demands of that verse save Felix O. C. Dar- 
ley ; " but the publishers would be most happy to see this unqualified assertion disproved. 



In style of Fenn. 

To ill. I'erse : ' Poem. 

Above the far horizon's rim I see, 

To . 

*' The dim-lit heaven, the dark and dewy land. 

Sonnet. 
^' The sun goes down in the glowing west,* 

IJastward. 
" Deep in the dreamy distance. 

Morning Zand. 
" I saw the sea and the moonrise meet, 

3f^ Boat. 
" Hark ! the pine-trees. 

Death'' s Elver. 
" Turn, turn, tide ! 

Written in Sand. 
" And mutely the bare, brown branches. 

Autumn Prayer. 

* From Nature — the Golden Gate, San Francisco. 



In style of Hallock, 

To ill. "verse : Poem. 

Thy voice the ea^er waves, my heart 
The dumb, cold sand. 

An Hour. 
" Nothing nearer, dearer than the flower and planet are, 

Weary. 



From any Capable Source, 

To ill. terse : Poem. 

Nay ! satisfy your ardent gaze, 

Zigrht Love. 

" I cannot follow after your swift leading, 

Angel-G-uide. 

" Close and seal the wide, dark eyes, 

Bequiescat. 

" But, strong and fair and young. 

Faith Tremhling. 

" Oh ! Christian charity is the oddest — 

Degraded. 

4 



CHRISTMAS AND NEW-YEAR'S 

"Will soon have passed, but 

EVERY DAY OF THE YEAR IS SOMEBODY'S BIRTHDAY ! 

To every lover of poetry, whose sympatliies with. *' impatient 
youth" have not yet felt the blighting frosts of a withered old age, 

THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF LOVE SONGS 

Will prove as charming and delightful a birthday gift as ever bloomed 
in type. 

Elegantly bound in cloth, full gilt, Price, $2.50 
Morocco, " 5.00 
^^ Subscribers who remit now will receive, in the order of their 
subscription, the first copies which leave the press, at the reduced 
rates of $2.00 and $4.50. 

2;^^ The above reduction will not be granted after the book has 
left the press. 

ADVERTISERS I 

OF 

BOOKS, MUSIC, STATIONERY, etc. 

^^° Four pages only of outside advertisements will be admitted 
to this book. 

The right to occupy the whole or a part of these four pages in 

All Future Issues 

OF THIS 

" IDOI:jI-i-A.1R, EIDITIOiN"" 

Will be sold immediately to the highest cash bidder ! 

' 1^" The Publishers deem 100,000 copies in six months a low esti- 
mate of the coming sale of "Love Songs:" it is a book that will 
speedily enter every truly American home on this continent. 

5 



TO THE TRADE AND PUBLIC. 



The Fifth Avexue Publishing Company will construct and run 
upon a broad-gauge track of its own, with entire independence of " the 
established ruts of the trade." 

It will conduct business upon an exclusively cash basis ; paying 
and exacting cash in advance or on delivery, in all its business trans- 
actions. 

In support of this course, the Company will issue no books which 
are not preassured of universal popularity — none that will ever make 
" dead stock " on the bookseller's hands. 

To the Author it will give the proverbial lion's share of the profits ; 
to the Bookseller a larger profit per volume than is retained by it- 
self; to the Pubhc books which in every department of their con- 
struction reveal the master-workman ; and in their retail price betray 
a broad and liberal policy whose key-note may be struck in the 

motto, 

^' A small percentage on immense sales ! " 

One of the largest and wealthiest publishing-houses in the United 
States has acquired in a solitary respect a most unenviable reputation. 
A book bearing the imprint of that house, at the first reading, shows 
unmistakable signs of approaching dissolution; at the second or 
third, it invariably falls to pieces. A reputation precisely the reverse 

6 



of this is the fixed aim of the F. A. P. C. A book bearing the Com- 
pany's imprint will be, at least to the purchaser, " a thing of beauty " 
and " a joy forever." The present Publishers will pursue their voca- 
tion animated by a spirit analogous to that which impels Eobert Bon- 
ner in pursuit of horse-flesh. The best and nothing short of the best 
artists in book-making will satisfy them ; and their firm-name upon a 
title-page must be a recognized synonym for that which is preemi- 
nently readable, durable, beautiful, and salable. The inscription upon 
their escutcheon, rendered in true, collegiate Latin, should read, " Sem- 
per Caput ! " and a level head at that. 

The Company will present no books to reviewers. It will deal 
directly with the masses of the people through the media of the book- 
sellers and the advertising columns of the daily and weekly press. 

Neither bookbuyers nor booksellers will long remain ignorant of 

the reasons why 

It pays to patronize 

THE FIFTH AVENUE PUBLISHING CO., 

Box 3,136, NEW YORK. 



NEW YORK BOOKSELLERS, 

During the holidays, may obtain a limited amount of " Love Songs " 
on the terms indicated in the following commission Manh ; the Pub- 
lishers reserving the right to withdraw deposits needed to fill cash 
orders. 



New TorTc^ Dec,..^ 1869. 

THE FIFTH AVENUE PUBLISHING CO, 

copies^ @ $ , 

to sell on commission of per cent.^subject to the an- 
nexed rules. 



' The retail receipts, minus commission, on all books sold must 
be paid to the Company's Agent on Monday of every week. 

All books imsold must be returned on demand of the Company. 



WE SONiS; AND OTHER POiMS. 

By Maey Ainge De Veke. 

One volume, 16mo. Price, $1.00. "Wholesale, 75 cents per copy. 

50 copies, or more, TO cents ; 100 copies or more, 65 cents. 

These terms are invariable. 



